


Supply Closet

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-08
Updated: 2009-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick Stump has many crushes at work. Like, all of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supply Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: [](http://sharon-hate.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sharon-hate.livejournal.com/)**sharon_hate** 's belated birthday prompt ( _office drone AU_ ); and for **music is made accidentally: the overheard challenge** , using the overheard prompt:  
>  _'Where's the elevator?'  
>  'Right next to the programme office - yep, no, to the left, yes, there you go!' - young women in a hotel._

Patrick opened the door to the supply closet, just on an ordinary hunt for some staples to replace the ones Joe stole out of his stapler, and was faced with the slightly gruesome sight of his immediate supervisor making out with that Way guy from Administration.

"Um," Patrick said when Pete moved his lips from the other guy's in surprise, turning to stare at Patrick, who clicked his empty stapler in his hand a few times; he was trying to decide the best method of fleeing, but his mind was fixating on the way Pete's shirt was pulled out of his pants, the material rucked up a bit to display a tempting band of tanned skin. "Ok, I. Just."

"Oh," Pete said and rest his hands on the shoulders of the other dude, holding him away a little; why Pete had a thing for taller people was totally beyond Patrick, but at least that put Patrick completely out of the runnings. Not... not that he was _hoping_ , or anything. "Hi there, Patrick."

"Hey boss," Patrick managed to say lightly, and clicked his stapler again, trying to quell a nervous giggle. He always giggled when faced with an embarrassing situation, high-pitched and wavery. The dude from Admin was staring at him, his mouth twisted to one side, but he didn't look as embarrassed as Patrick felt; as a matter of fact he looked slightly impatient, albeit in an amused manner and Patrick figured if he'd been making out with Pete Wentz and some dork had pulled open the door, he'd be a lot more pissed off.

"Yeah, so. This is our supply closet," Pete said a little loudly, motioning with his arms around the narrow space. "Where we keep our supplies."

"Oh, I see," the Way dude said in a quiet voice, still standing close enough to Pete to be classified as _conjoined_. "Very organised."

"All thanks to Patrick's anal-retentive ways," Pete grinned; Patrick clicked his stapler and imagined it was clicking against Pete's head. Clicking with much pain. "Yeah, I have one key to inside here and Patrick has the other one. He's trustworthy, he doesn't steal supplies at all. You can put that on your inventory report thing," Pete said, looking up into Way's face and grinning. Patrick thought about the reams of paper he'd printed music manuscript lines on to take home and said nothing.

"This is Michael Way from Administration," Pete said after a very long and awkward silence. "Mikey, this is Patrick from... well, we're all awesome here in Marketing, hip-hip?"

"Hooray," Patrick finished by reflex and pulled a wry face. Pete's weekly cheerleading sessions _did_ have an effect on him after all. Damn it. "So, I need some staples."

"Staples, staples," Pete muttered, bending a little to look at some lower shelves. Mikey Way from Admin finally stepped back a little and Pete braced his hands on his upper thighs, eyes scanning the supplies. "Staples for Patrick's awesome stapler, hmm."

"Right beside your butt," Patrick put in helpfully and flushed as Pete simply turned his head and peered over his own shoulder, so he was bent over with his back arched suggestively. Mikey Way met Patrick's eyes over Pete's porn-star pose and shrugged slightly, a small smile starting on his lips. Patrick decided that Mikey Way from Admin was A-okay.

"Here we go!" Pete grabbed a box and shoved it into Patrick's hand. "Have a great day, Patrick!"

"Hey, you too," Patrick tried to reply, but the door was already being shut in his face. "Maybe you should lock the door with the key," Patrick suggested through the wood.

"Thanks," Pete's muffled voice returned, and Patrick rolled his eyes as he heard the key turning.

 

* * *

 

"Joseph Trohman, please report to the parking lot," Joe said over the intercom. Patrick bit his lip and tried not to laugh. "Will Joseph Trohman report to the parking lot? Thanks."

"Pete really should make them take that off your phone," Patrick said, getting up and kneeling in his chair, peering over the divider at Joe's grin.

Joe threw a wad of paper at him. "You're a cruel man, Patrick Stump. This is like the only fun I have all fucking day." He adopted a sly expression and Patrick feared for someone's sanity. "You know who we should page? We should page Gerard Way in HR. Or even Hurley, I hear that fucker is _lethal_."

Patrick wrinkled his nose, not picking up on Joe's train of thought. "What? Why?"

"You know." Joe folded some more paper on his desk, trying and failing miserably at origami. He threw the distorted bird over the wall into Patrick's space. "Maybe tell them about all the inappropriate behaviour down here in the Hallowed Halls of Marketing."

Patrick turned his head and looked down the little hall where Pete _still_ hadn't come out with Mikey Way. Then something hit him, quite forcibly. "Wait, Gee Way in HR is Mikey's brother?"

Joe stared at him. "I keep forgetting you're the pinnacle of obliviousness, man. Mikey Way started working here about a week after you and Gerard brought him around and introduced him to everybody. I think you were struggling with staring at Pete's ass and Gerard's face at the same time." Joe looked thoughtful. "I think you're the kind of person who, like the esteemed Big Pun, is not a player but crushes a lot."

Patrick decided not to tell Joe about that month when he'd thought Joe's smile was pretty much the cutest thing ever. "We need to take rap off the radio too, to save our sanity," he mused out loud. "You keep quoting these songs and it comes out sounding super weird."

"Also, _Gee_?" Joe's glee had reached critical levels, if one could gauge from the twinkling eyes. "Wow, a few lunches together and he's 'Gee'. So maybe I should just get Hurley to come down here and talk about Proper Office Conduct again. It's been a long time since I had a good long nap in the conference room."

"Please don't do that," Patrick begged, but Joe apparently had Hurley on speed-dial and was now chattering a mile a minute. Patrick slid back down into his seat, picked up the origami failbird and thought maybe he _should_ have taken that job as a music-teacher.

 

* * *

 

Andrew Hurley from HR was one of Patrick's favourites to look at, if not _the_ top fave. Victoria from Accounts (Receivable) came in a close second, but Hurley was currently the reigning king of visual eye-candy in Patrick's mindscape. Even as he droned endlessly about sexual harassment in the workplace, Patrick managed to make out the riot of bright ink under the long sleeves of his white shirt and was staring at them fixedly.

Patrick set his brain in fantasizing mode. Andy Hurley was probably a freak in bed or something. He would unbutton that white shirt slowly, maybe exposing a tattooed chest. Then he'd let the shirt slide off his shoulders and leave it hanging at his wrists for Patrick to tug the rest of the way off, smiling in the same way he did every morning when they got in the elevator together: not showing his teeth at all, but his eyes behind his glasses were always warm.

Patrick always wondered why Hurley, who obviously disliked his job, didn't just leave.

"I have a mortagage," Andy had informed him sourly one morning. "Fucking banks, I have half a mind to pull out all my damned money and put it under my bed. I'd say fuck the house too, but the guys I share it with are working hard to keep it, so there's that." He had given Patrick a very narrow glare. "Stump, trust me: banks were just created to keep up this thin veneer of civilization that keeps us trapped within a capitalist mind-frame. But give me time. I'll escape with my sanity, at least I can hang onto that."

He had stalked out at his floor and Patrick had stared out after him, thinking that the strange rant made him just a little hotter.

Like now. Hurley had stopped speaking and was looking at him expectantly, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped below his chin. A thin line of his ink was exposed above the cuff of his sleeves.

Everyone was staring at Patrick too; Patrick recalled his fantasy from four seconds ago, in which Hurley was straddling him in some random bed and went warm all over.

"What?"

"Joe said you had a burning question?" Andy raised his eyebrows a little, and the sunlight falling onto his pulled-back hair picked out the red highlights. "What is it?"

Patrick stepped on Joe's toes under the table and gave Andy a weak grin. "Um. Could... you remind us about interpersonal relationships?" He tried hard not to glance at Pete. "Like, if they're allowed or not."

Andy kept his gaze trained on Patrick's. "No." He smiled briefly. "Officially, they're not."

"How about mutual sexual harassment?" Pete put in brightly.

"That's not even remotely funny," Andy snapped and glared at Pete. "You're a manager on a departmental level. You should know better than that."

"Better than what?" Pete asked innocently and Andy rolled his eyes hard, but when his glance caught Patrick's again, he smiled.

_hrly from hr totally wants to get into the supply closet with u_ , Joe sent him over the office internal messenger and Patrick closed the window quickly, because Hurley was still _right over there_ , arguing with Pete near the elevator. He contented himself with throwing a handful of paperclips over the divider, grinning grimly at the sound of the metallic rain and Joe's yell.

 

* * *

Greta and Frankie worked at the general reception desk on the ground floor and Patrick had no idea how they dealt with so many questions each morning with such great big smiles. Patrick would have been screaming insane after the fourth request for the programme office (there was this massive directory right on the fucking entry wall, did no one _read_?), but at least their smiles in the morning really served to make his entire day.

They were also supply closet material. Patrick was beginning to fear that he might have a strange locational obsession like Gabe up in Legal. Maybe he should just drag someone in there, and get it out of his system, seriously.

"Patrick Stump," Frankie greeted him with a big grin. "This is why I love dress-down Fridays," he told Greta companionably. "Just to see Patrick in jeans, it's like the best day of the week."

"Come on," Patrick laughed. "Come on, Frankie. Didn't Hurley have a little talk with you about things like that?"

"I didn't mention anything about the thighs, man." Frankie beamed at him, fielding an urgent question from a tiny old lady, before dropping him a wink. Greta also gave him a mock leer and Patrick was sailing on a cloud of internal delight towards the elevators.

His cloud went a little higher when Bob stepped in with him.

"Morning," Bob rumbled, looking more comfortable in his dark shirt and jeans than the suits he wore the rest of the week. Patrick smiled shyly in reply and tugged self-consciously at the ends of his shirt. Bob's pale eyelashes fluttered at him as he blinked rapidly and then he tried on a slow smile for size. It looked a little weird, but Patrick opined that it changed his face completely.

"Patrick, right? You work with Wentz... up in Marketing, right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I'm so sorry about that," Bob deadpanned and Patrick actually laughed out loud. "That must be really hard for you."

"It's a burden I must bear," Patrick said in the same tone of voice and they grinned at each other. "Actually, he's not so bad once you ignore most of his bad habits."

"Which is why I ignore him all the time. But he talks a lot in the meetings we're in, so..." He trailed off and stared at Patrick. "Hey. You sang at the company picnic last year."

Patrick toed the ground and nodded. He was about to say something in reply when the elevator dinged, came to a halt and Hurley stepped in through the open doors, looking harried with an armful of files. Patrick inhaled quickly, because Andy was also in very casual clothes, the sleeves of his soft cotton shirt pulled up to his _elbows_.

Not fair, universe. Not fair at all.

"Oh, wow, those are sweet!" Bob exclaimed, reaching out to touch Hurley's brightly coloured upper arm. Hurley moved his arm a little, frowing; Bob probably didn't know that he was adamant about his personal space. Which was weird, because he ended up nearly standing right on top of Patrick, arms brushing against Patrick's.

"Hello," he told Patrick with a wide smile. Patrick stared at this unusual but welcome display of teeth, then smiled back, hoping he didn't look like too huge of a dork. Apparently not, because Andy's smile grew wider.

Then, Andy was jostled out of the way as Gee blasted inside, arguing with Gabe and Vicky.

"Hi there," Gerard said to Patrick in his low, sweet voice.

"Hi there," Victoria said and winked at him.

"Hi there," Gabe said as well and it sounded like a promise that Patrick should be very afraid of. They were all staring at him and Patrick suddenly felt like... like something on display.

"Just move back, Gabe!" Someone, it sounded like it was Pete, bawled as they tried to force their way into the cramped elevator. Bob was smooshed on one side of Patrick, Andy on the other and Patrick thought that maybe he should inform Andy that someone, probably Gabe, was rubbing against him in a most inappropriate way.

Maybe not.

Pete was peering over Gabe's shoulder and blinking at Patrick.

"What are you doing back there?" he demanded, as if Patrick was planning some heist or something.

_Being happily surrounded by nearly all of hot-ass people in the company_ , Patrick thought and there was a deafening silence within the elevator.

Pete finally said, very slowly, "Patrick, remember when I told you that sometimes your mouth activates without informing your brain? This was one of those times."

"Not that it wasn't offensive or anything," Gerard added, more quickly. "Was it, Hurley?"

"I suppose he was just making a truthful response," Hurley mused and gave Patrick a sideways smile. "All I can say is, I'm not offended. Not in the least."

"Neither am I!" Gabe trilled and everyone informed him that he had no shame anyway.

"You should really stop rubbing against him," Andy actually told Gabe, much to Patrick's relief.

Everyone then agreed on their state of inoffendedness at Patrick's comment, grinning at him with almost identical expressions of self-satisfaction.

"Paging Patrick Stump," Joe's voice came over the intercom. "Paging Patrick Stump. The supply closet is free and available. Repeat, the supply closet is free and available."

While most people looked confused by this message (as most people were by all of Joe's messages), only Pete's face was thunderous. Patrick made a mental note to scatter all of Joe's stuff into the female bathrooms as revenge and as all the attention in the elevator focused on him, he tried not to giggle.

It was a very close thing, but the thought of Joe's entire desk-organizer perched on the hand-drying machine helped, so very much.

_fin_


End file.
